A tool kit for cities in crisis

What does it feel like to be Paradise, gutted by the Camp Fire, or Chico, inundated by wildfire refugees? Or, looking back 20 years, Alameda, suddenly without its community-defining Navy base? Or, for that matter, any of the Peninsula cities that have had a corporate campus plunked into their midst?

Sudden change comes in many forms, but the effect is similar. Imagine sitting at the kitchen table listening to your spouse tell you that your marriage is over. Thudding pulse, stomach bottoming out, and a giant void where the future used to be. All those plans that you subconsciously banked on? Pfft ... gone.

It gets worse too because, regardless of whether it’s an economic crisis or an environmental one, those cities have also lost their identity. They’re like that exhausted, confused, and newly single spouse, simultaneously trying to maintain a sense of normalcy while looking in the mirror and asking nobody in particular: “What now?”

People in crisis rely on friends, family and therapists to help them chart a course after they’ve been punched in the gut. But when it comes to addressing a community’s emotional damage, there isn’t much in the way of a tool kit. Much of what is available is policy-based or tactical or measured by the bottom line.

What communities of people in crisis really need is similar to what individuals need: help processing what just happened, an inventory of the traits and tools they still possess, and assistance figuring out who they want to be in the next chapter of life.

With global climate change, an earthquake always looming in the Bay Area, and a transforming global economy, crises will occur more often, affecting people you know with increasing regularity. We need to plan for and learn to live with the inevitable crisis (or two). Some of the crises will even be caused by relocating corporate behemoths. We need a Tool Kit for Cities in Crisis (and a Tool Kit for Companies that Cause a City Crisis, for that matter).

It should look like this:

Process, don’t ignore: When something in life ends, we need to sort through the repercussions. Cities are no different. The tendency among community leaders is to hustle toward the next new thing to boost morale and, more practically, ensure that the tax base doesn’t vanish overnight. That makes sense if you’re an elected official: It’s hard to get re-elected on a platform of somber mourning (it makes a terrible yard sign). But to build the foundation for the next period of growth, it’s important to first create a release valve for anger and worry.

One way to encourage healthy reflection is to get residents out of the house and working together. It might entail a public art project that solicits community input, a hands-on rebuilding of a community center, or regularly scheduled community feasts. Odds are, residents feel some combination of betrayal, abandonment and anxiety so invite them to express it alongside their neighbors instead of on their own, where it can fester and lead to squabbling over perceived dwindling resources.

Another way to encourage reflection is to claim the date of the crisis as a holiday and mark it annually so the community can prove to itself that they’re still alive and kicking. Annual commemorations help people see how the town has changed since the crisis, highlighting their progress.

Inventory your strengths: Plotting a course forward requires cities to identify what cards they still hold. It can be difficult for residents to recognize the value of what they have. An outsider’s perspective can be helpful in inventorying a community’s idiosyncrasies — from artists to history to traditions to small businesses — and then spotlighting them in a way that reminds residents there is much more to their community than what was lost. A well-constructed inventory highlights patterns that hint at a path forward, much like holding up a mirror and showing the community its best side so they feel confident in the future.

Write your story: The last step is where it comes together. Gather key stakeholders to decide who they want their city to be, what they want it to be known for. Done right, these discussions isolate the community’s defining values and produce a compelling story. What’s more, the process of working together to craft the story anneals the community, setting a solid foundation for the challenges to come.

If you’re a city looking at a strange and unfamiliar new future after a quake, wildfire, flood or the arrival or departure of a major employer, these steps will help your community enunciate its future and chart a path toward it.

Lev Kushner is a founding partner at Department of Here, a San Francisco consultancy that helps government, planners and developers give definition and meaning to the places people care about. To comment, submit your letter to the editor at SFChronicle.com/letters.